The Travelers' Song

by Brendan O'Gara

  Charlotte nodded in agreement with Wandalor, “I am a human. I thought to disagree with you Wandalor not for the reasons you think. I would not defend my fellow humans. I have seen judgmental men and women. My status is that of a Lady. My father is in all rights a king. He sits on a throne that his father and brothers died staking claim to. I have royal blood, yet if my dress was not of fine fabric, if I lacked in some imagined way I was considered less than others at court. Humans both male and female are not racists as you say, not to other races but they are cruel to each other. They treat their own worse than the dust on their feet to be swept out with the evening.”

  The men eating looked sullen. Charlotte knew it was more than conversation or malicious intent that made her friends thoughtful and depressed. Charlotte sees the grave nature of the men in their sunken expressions and downcast eyes. Not the confident adventurers she had met on the road. As they ate, Charlotte tentatively asked, “Tell us, Wandalor, what you did to bring Johan back to the living.” Wandalor bowed his head over his plate. She asked Gadlin, “Is it a tale so horrid that you can’t share it with Darr and me? Surly Johan deserves to know what was done on his behalf.”

  Charlotte looked at Thalin, who sighed deeply. Amidst the not so subtle silent chastising from Wandalor, he relayed the tale to the group.

  After he had told of Lambach and the cave, he finished with the possibility of the Elven scouts sending troops to find them and the orcs that were on their trail. He didn’t tell of the sacrifice of Gadlin.

  Charlotte knew Thalin withheld information, so she asked, “Why would elves care about three travelers just passing through? Did you engage them first? Did you insult them?”

  Thalin shrugged. Charlotte watched Johan place his head in his hands. The weight of what happened sat heavily on him, and Charlotte realized the elves were barley an inconvenience in what had transpired.

  “According to the old ways, life is paid for with life. What did you pay to secure that liquid we fed Johan that restored his life?” Charlotte asked the room in a whisper.

  “We paid the price that was asked by the old gods for Johan's life, and...” Gadlin began to answer. Charlotte, without hesitation, rose and walked around the table to where Gadlin was seated. All eyes were on her as she bent, wrapped her arms around the naked dwarf man, pulled him to his feet, and embraced him in a fierce hug. She paid no regard to his state of undress. “My friend, what have you done?”

  “I would do it again,” Gadlin whispered as he breathed in her hair, wishing he could smell her as he felt the softness of her against him.

  Releasing him, she stood to protest. Her mouth was opened to speak, then slammed shut at the sound of a hard knock on the door.

  Darr rose to his feet and looked to the rest of his friends as he made his way to the door. Opening it cautiously he saw a huge man clad in armor and standing in front of him. In stark contrast stood a smaller elf dressed in leather and linen traveling clothes, holding in his open palm three steel nails that Darr saw right away.

  “Hello, good sir. I would like to talk to you today about rebirth. Do you have moment?” the smaller man said as soon as the door opened.

  “Absolutely, I have time; come right in,” Darr said, happy to talk to anyone about his religion and the God of Light. As far as Darr was concerned, regardless of how they looked, all were welcome in the God’s house. Since this house had him, the paladin in residence, that made it God’s house. Darr closed the door.

  The faces around the table looked up as the two men entered the room. Each instinctively picked a utensil from the table at the sight of the strangers. Charlotte quietly reached over and placed her fingers, brushing her dagger at her side.

  The two visitors stepped into the room and looked at the group assembled around the table. The elf took a quick look and saw that the armor was on a bed and weapons near. He surmised that, though these people sat for a meal, they were indeed ready to fight at an instant. Vanquish saw the same, noticing that three of the men, Gadlin, Thalin, and Johan, had table knives in their hands. The hands of the older man and the woman were unseen, tucked into their sides, presumably in a pocket to withdraw a weapon. The Silver Elf began a quiet summoning of Eldritch.

  “Darr, I assume,” he said, motioning toward the paladin. “I apologize for misleading you at the start. I know all about your God, Darr. I assure you I will do my best not to do so again. My name is Charles Monte, but call me Rick. I am the Regional Excursionist of Emeranthia. An alarm went up yesterday, a rather loud and obnoxious alarm, as two of you went off board,” Rick said as he turned to Darr and then back to the group. He had a look of confusion on his face. “This is my, um...” Rick motioned to Vanquish, with a wavering hand not quite knowing how to introduce the man.

  “Your friend?” Charlotte offered.

  “No, not that,” Rick quickly replied.

  “I am his bodyman; if there is a threat to his person it is my job to neutralize it,” Vanquish said to her, and looked about the room at the others.

  “The emperor sent you, I assume,” Gadlin said.

  “Yes, just so. As a matter of fact, Emperor Mooreclasian did. Some of you disappeared not long ago and I was sent out to retrieve you, bring you back to the capital...”

  “Wait, if we go back is that going to void this mission?” Wandalor asked.

  “No, the emperor stated that this is, or will be, a completed mission added to the total missions you must complete to earn your freedom or citizenship...whichever you are working on. Your choice, yes?” Rick explained.

  Johan dropped his utensil without a word and walked over to the bed and began to dress. On his initiative, the men did the same without argument or discussion. They donned armor and weapons.

  “Gather your belongings, young lady. We are going to see the emperor. And before you say a word, just do it. We are not going to allow harm to come to you nor are we going to allow you to go traipsing about the wild lands alone. You are with us. Period.” Wandalor spoke in a firm, authoritative voice. Looking at Rick, Wandalor nodded his head and Rick returned his nod.

  “Yes, Miss, you are in the best hands. Yes, just so. These men are trustworthy and steadfast,” Rick said.

  Wandalor tilted his head, as though he just understood something that was obvious yet not. “Did you just say that you were in the capital yesterday?” Wandalor blurted.

  “Yes, he did,” Vanquish replied.

  “Look, no one asked you tin can” Darr snarked.

  “That's not possible. How could you be in the capital yesterday and here today, when it took us months to walk across these countries. I think you’ll need to explain a thing or six starting with your name. Rick,” Johan said as he tightened his belt. “I mean, don’t misunderstand me. I myself was elsewhere yesterday, talking to old gods or the laws. Maybe it was I was speaking to reality. I don’t know! Maybe when I was dying. I was hallucinating that I was talking to those people, but yesterday I was in my own head. That head was lying right here in Blackweb. How could you physically be in the capital yesterday and here in Blackweb now?”

  “Would it be easy for you if he explained in a way that you would understand it? Using the smallest words possible?” Vanquish mocked.

  “Pardon me, but are the two of you related?” Gadlin stated more than asked as he looked back and forth at Darr and Vanquish.

  Vanquish looked at Darr and then back at Gadlin. “No, I think not.”

  “I am the Regional Excursionist of Emeranthia. It is my talent and my job to travel, to move people and things from one place to another at a moment's notice. Moving from the capital to here was as easy as stepping through a doorway. My time at the Royal School of Magic taught me all the ways to move around the world and that, lady and gentlemen, is the reason Vanquish is with me in truth, just so.” Rick stood proud as he made this statement. “As for my name, it is what my family called me from a small lad. I needed no explanation and nor do you.

  “Well, that explains absol
utely nothing as to the how of your travel, Sir,” Charlotte said.

  “I own a house on the big island, one block away from the Food Festival. Once we get out of here and get over there I will explain. Now please, let's be about moving along; the emperor wishes us to make all haste.” Rick moved toward the door and held it open.

  The group worked in unison to clean up the room to leave things as they were before they arrived. Charlotte gathered her traveling pack and tucked her blue cloak into the bag, ensuring the copper plate was wrapped and protected. As she worked her things into a manageable arrangement for the journey ahead, she folded a stack of papers and slipped them discreetly into her pocket.

  The six travelers followed Rick and his man quietly and without ceremony down the stairs into the main hall of the inn. It still being early, the hall was empty of guests. One-Cut was not yet behind the bar. The morning bells had not even rung yet but began as they stepped out onto the floor of the tavern.

  The wife of One-Cut came in, carrying a bucket of soapy water to wash tables and chairs. Charlotte asked for One-Cut to come speak with her before they departed. The woman nodded and went to fetch her husband.

  One-Cut entered and shook hands with Johan and then bowed slightly to Charlotte. “Thank you, sir, for your hospitality and care of us as your guests. I cannot in good conscience leave without offering some sort of payment. You and your family cannot survive on being generous, even to brave men such as these.” Charlotte pulled out the folded papers. One-Cut looked at the book pages and frowned.

  “Knowledge pages are of no use to me, Miss,” he replied.

  “I don’t have gold or coin. I only have this for currency,” Charlotte offered again.

  “Aye, no use to me, however my wife would kill me while I slept if I refused to take a few of what you offer.” He shuffled through them, pulled out two, and handed the neatly folded stack back to Charlotte. She smiled, and patted the innkeeper's beefy arm. She then turned to follow the others out through to the stables.

  “Charlotte, the price he’ll get for the horses we’re leaving will compensate him well,” Darr assured. “They’re yours, One-Cut.” Darr turned to follow the others out through the front door, Charlotte’s elbow in hand.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Woodsman Beach on the mainland was littered with small fishing boats. Men and women worked together to unload the night's catch, ready to take it to market. The beach on the far side of the big island was clear of boats and of people. It was a serene, calm area—waiting for families and people to come out and enjoy it. As the adventurers crossed the bridge, the tap of their heels on the wooden bridge was the only sound beyond the beach and the work going on there. A single town’s guard walked from one side of the bridge to the other. He looked around, turned, and walked back again. It was his duty to be there. The people who lived on the Big Island were cordial. Politely they greeted each person as they crossed over the water. The group made their way to Rick's house.

  Johan was about to begin a story when a sweet, spicy-hot fragrance entered his nose. The smell, new to him, worked to stir the appetite, invigorating and warming his senses, and even producing a feeling of joy. “What is that? I-I have never smelled something so interesting.” A smile crept across his face, stifling the idea of a story in his mind.

  Indeed none of the travelers had smelled this fragrance before. Charlotte, Rick, and even Vanquish had smelled this before, being from more affluent areas of the world. Even Darr took notice as this new aroma caught the air and wafted into his senses. Darr saw how Johan had reacted to it. He was seemingly unable to contain himself and was likewise tempted into the feeling of joy. “What is that? I have not smelled the like either!” Darr proclaimed.

  “It’s cinnamon, a spice from the far side of the world. It is made from harvesting the inside bark of a special tree. Not all trees have this type of bark, only the right ones, so do not try to peel away any tree. Only the Cassia tree will work,” Rick explained.

  “We have a small grove of Cassia on my father’s land. We use the spice from these trees in baking bread for our province,” Charlotte said to the trio.

  “Then I assume that your father is a wealthy man of some repute in your part of the world,” Vanquish declared. Charlotte said nothing.

  “We are here, at my home, just so.” Rick motioned to an older-looking house made of brown bricks with granite accents.

  “This house is very tasteful. Not overstated, not too large. I like it,” Wandalor said as he looked up at the stone. “I could get some work and study done in here, as I am sure that you are aware and do as well.”

  “City dwellers, admiring each other’s buildings,” Thalin grumbled under his breath.

  The group entered the home up the few granite steps. They were ushered through various hallways and rooms until they stood in a modest library. The library had two levels of shelves, none of which had a book in the traditional sense of the word. The shelves were lined with scrolls and parchments.

  “I must remember where this place is,” Wandalor quipped. “Do we have time? May I?”

  “No, no we must hurry,” Rick answered.

  “This is an amazing repository of knowledge,” Darr added, taking in the room.

  “Papers, desks, a ladder to get to the tall shelves, and a couple long cushiony things. Couches you call them, I think. Nice tall windows for light. Why are we in here and how are we getting to the citadel?” Gadlin said as he looked about the room.

  Charlotte had ventured further into the room. She was carefully looking at the shelves when a puff of white light and a hand appeared in front of her face. Startled, she jumped back and the hand disappeared. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Wandalor pulling the very scroll out of his satchel. Wandalor saw her staring and grinned. “Put it back, ”she mouthed. The sorcerer, a bit downcast, did as she asked. When his hand appeared in front of her again Charlotte was ready for it, and gave it a slight smack before it faded out of sight.

  Rick moved about the room and opened an armoire made of ebony. The piece was held together with hinges and corner coverings made of cold rolled iron. With deft hands he smoothly opened the clasp holding the doors closed revealing bleak, black emptiness. With a gesture of his hands he beckoned the group to enter the cabinet.

  “Pfft, yeah right. You’re moonstruck if you think I’m going to step into darkness on just a smile and a gesture,” Thalin said in a huff.

  Without a word or a gesture, Vanquish weighed the options of picking up Charlotte and tossing her into the darkness. His eyes darted from one traveler to another, predicting who would draw their weapon first. Darr or the one the emperor liked, Gadlin? Then what would the sorcerer do, or would it be the druid who used a spell? Johan was a city rat, and was only recently returned from the dead. Vanquish realized that the only way to avoid violence was to act against his nature.

  “Why do you always resort to violence?” Vanquish said as he looked about the room and smoothly moved closer to the armoire. After a moment of standing in front of the piece of furniture he sighed, “My instinct is to pick one of you up and toss you in. However, I will show you what to do.”

  Vanquish took two big steps into the darkness of the wardrobe and disappeared. After a few moments the group heard his voice, “I am here. Now, next person.”

  Rick said, “Now, who’s next?”

  Wandalor stepped up to the entrance.

  “Stay straight on the pathway. Do not venture left or right. Stay true, just so,” Rick advised. Wandalor stepped into the darkness.

  Vanquish found himself looking at a familiar face. An old tattoo resembling a skull was displayed just above the right side of her right eyebrow and left a bittersweet memory of companionship. This was the face of Melinda Gedney, a true dreamer among humans. There was something different about her, perhaps the coldness or perhaps a feeling of guilt. People tended to ask her for favors, while making up bigger stories about her.

  On the
other side she waited, standing beside Heronimus Ullman, a Gothite. Frizzy white hair hung over her time-worn face. Wide amber eyes, set tightly within their sockets, watch vigilantly over the woman they'd come to love for so long. He knew it would be difficult to act on his feelings for Melinda. A moustache and goatee charmingly complemented his hair and cheekbones, leaving an intriguing memory of his upbringing. His was the face of a true daredevil among humans and the other races. His big frame towered over others. People flock to him, while trying to please him.

  Vanquish and Heronimus greeted one another in the guttural assassins’ language, speaking in normal tones. Vanquish smiled, and gestured to the group coming through the pathway. Heronimus appeared unhappy, gesturing to the lady then to the empty area near them, showing that he was still waiting.

  “Hello, Miss,” Johan said from across the room as he and the group crossed the distance.

  “Hello,” came a soft, sultry voice.

  “Are all the bodyguards here so immense in stature?” Wandalor mused, looking from Vanquish to Heronimus.

  Shocked and surprised at the same time, then looking at the two men and then to Wandalor, Melinda answered, “Bodyguards! These two are not bodyguards. Who told you that? They’re assassins.”

  Ice water ran down Darr’s spine at the mention of the word. The group stopped in their tracks and put hands on weapon hilts in preparation to draw.

  “Slow and easy,” Wandalor said quietly.

  “Slow is smooth.” Darr centered himself as he spoke.